


On Route

by Aineyel



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Underage Cloud (At First)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3677286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aineyel/pseuds/Aineyel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genesis decided to put all the blame on the horrid pink fumes. Why else would he be so incredibly attracted to this delivery boy/man? </p><p>In which Cloud was born and raised in the Midgar slums and does deliveries to earn enough to help support his mother. Genesis is just there to be pulled along for the ride. As are many other people that get caught between these two storm bringers.</p><p>Sort of AC!Cloud in a younger body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Route

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing except wishful dreams. Hell if I did there would have been a whole lot more Genesis and Cloud interactions. 
> 
> Originally this was PWP with Genesis/Cloud Canon Divergence Freeform I don't know what I'm doing. I had the hardest time starting this story because I wanted to do too many things at once. Expect many more GxC stories in the future. Beloved and The Fifth Act by Sinnatious inspired me to actually give my plot bunnies a chance. Now I'm trying to pump out Genesis/Cloud stories by the dozens. 
> 
> If there is a plot in this story it was all unintentional and happened as I continued writing. I hope I won't be terribly obvious or predictable in my writing for everyone to hopefully enjoy the story as it somehow plays out.
> 
> Please forgive me for any mistakes on any characters, locations and general story telling/spelling, sentence structures or any grammatical errors. The last time I wrote a multichapter story was when I was like 14 and that shit was a horrid nightmare after rereading my garbage. Its been so long since I attempted to write a story instead of just plotting down ideas that I have no idea I can even do it anymore. So yeah… please take precautions! My writing is probably no good at all.
> 
> Fair Warning: Cloud is originally going to be a bit underage at the start of this story, this will be pretty subtle and won't be a huge focus. Its all consensual so it shouldn't matter too much.

* * *

 

“Ugh.”

Unfocused blue eyes briefly opened, only to slam shut from the blinding light seeping into the room.

A wave of nauseousness rolled from his stomach up to his throat. Taking a deep breath, he waited for the nausea to pass. Drawing a hand up he lightly massaged his temples, only to get them slightly stuck in his reddish brown hair. With a grimace he tried to untangle his hair only to find it sticky from sweat. He left it alone. No need to mess up his hair even more.

What the hell happened last night?

Genesis rolled over and groaned, slightly irked that he felt a bit sore. His thighs and lower back felt like mush. Had he been training all night or possibly get into a fight with Angeal or Sephiroth?

He felt disoriented, his memory was a mess.

Frowning, he finally let his eyes adjust to the light. Genesis sighed in relief, at least he was in his room and not in some shitty cheap hotel. Looking around, nothing in his room seemed remotely out of place. His red cloak was draped over one of the chairs by a table that had his beloved Loveless book on.

Glancing down at himself he froze. He was only wearing an oversized white shirt, which he was pretty sure he had thrown at the very back of his closet. He had been quite miffed that it had a misspelling of a Loveless quote on the front of the shirt. Zack, that one kid Angeal had been mentoring, had thought it would be a brilliant idea to get him the shirt. But that wasn't what made him froze, nope it was the bite marks and love bites covering his collar.

“Hm?” His right eyebrow arched up in wonder. How curious.

Genesis threw off the covers of his bed and briskly walked over to his bathroom, wrenching the door open. He braced his hands onto the sink and glared at the mirror.

His eyes widened a fraction as he stared at his reflection. He looked like shit, his hair was a mess of clumps from sweat. His collar wasn't the only part marked, plenty of marks littered his neck as well.

Twisting the horrendous shirt off his body and throwing it into a dark corner of his bathroom, Genesis considered burning it for a split second. He eyed his stomach and cursed at some dried liquids that had splattered over his stomach and chest. It appeared as though most of these fluids had pooled under his navel and had dripped onto his thighs and all over his privates. Were they even all his?

He then stared at his arms. Was that blood? Turning them inwards revealed four long scratches wrapped around his triceps and biceps and what looked like a few bite nips. A bit bruised but no blood was drawn.

Stretching his back, Genesis frowned and angled his back so he could see it in the mirror. His upper back was filled with scratches most of them had drawn blood. There were also plenty of crescent mark indents around his shoulder blades.

Genesis whistled. What a crazy wild night he must have had.

All of the marks luckily looked as though it had come from one person, Genesis noted with slight relief. At least he didn't have a damn orgy with his entire fan club or something possibly worse.

Stretching a bit more to loosen his abused muscles, he turned on the shower. Stepping in, he let the water cascade down his hair and onto his back. Closing his eyes Genesis shuffled through his memories, trying to make any sense of them.

Genesis could briefly remember that he was dispatched on a mission to capture a spy. The horrid mission took over two weeks and the whole thing was a damn waste of time. The mission had him going in circles supposedly following a tracks the spy had left behind.

Genesis growled, roughly lathering soap into his hair.

Either the spy was actually that good, or the mission had been a ruse to get him away from Midgar. Or maybe to just piss him the hell off. Needless to say, Genesis was furious at the wild goose chase.

Following his anger, he had gotten into a fight with Sephiroth, which of course was interrupted by Angeal. Unsatisfied and unable to quell his anger, Genesis had stormed off to the slums in hopes of killing some stray monsters and perhaps find someone dumb enough to get into a fight with him.

He had gone on a monster killing rampage before his PHS went off. A warning of some kind had flashed on the screen. Something about escaped specimens that could fuse with monsters giving them strange abilities. Then in finer print it had warned about heading to the slums and to the western outskirts of Midgar. It also mentioned to approach any monsters with caution in case it was indeed fused with a specimen.

Not even a minute passed before pink fumes smacked the back of his head. Apparently he had already killed one of the fused specimens and it had a delayed ability after death. He torched the piece of shit with fire.

Everything afterwards was a blur. He could briefly recall trying to wash his head off in an attempt to clear his mind but that did absolutely nothing for him. Then he may or may not have wandered the streets looking deranged and delirious.

Rinsing the soap from his hair, Genesis blinked. A memory flashed, there was a strong warm and hot body sliding against his. The lithe body underneath his shivered as Genesis ran his tongue across the stranger's collar bone. One of his hands glided across a flat pale chest and the other lightly scratched their back, eliciting a small masculine groan.

Definitely male. Ok, so at least he solved one thing. He had definitely been messing around with a very male person. It was angry sex borne from adrenaline, slight attraction and whatever the hell the pink fumes were.

He couldn't remember any details other than the skin tone of that gorgeous body he had fucked numerous times in multiple positions. He couldn't even remember where he had done the deeds. Though he could remember marking the other body with plenty of bites equal, if not more than what had been done to his own body.

How the hell had he managed to get back to his room?

Furrowing his brows, Genesis hissed as he applied soap to his raw back.

Ah well, he supposed it didn't really matter what happened last night, he could hardly care less. Despite the abuse to his body, it had apparently done him some good, feeling better than he had in months. He felt all the stress wash away, his body feeling light.

Genesis would probably never run into this person again and if he ever did, he'd never recognize him.

It was a bit of a shame though, Genesis mulled. It would have been nice to remember who he had shared his night with. If whoever it was could handle all the manhandling Genesis threw at him, he would have liked a number to call. Perhaps they could have done it again. Such a shame, the sex had definitely relaxed him. Finding worthy bed partners became increasingly difficult these days.

With that in mind, he quickly scrubbed the rest of his body of the grime and body fluids still stubbornly clinging to his body.

Rinsing the soap from his body he stared at the floor watching the soap turn a slight pink as a bit of his blood mixed down the drain.

Turning off the water and grabbing a towel, Genesis glanced at himself again in the mirror, smirking at all the love marks. He imagined all the faces that would turn and the rumors that would start from it. He decided to just leave them, it hardly mattered to him anyways.

His wounds would heal quickly so why not flaunt and create chaos while they remained?

Just in case though, he'd stop by the labs to skewer whoever the hell let pink fume spitting specimens escape. Perhaps even get a quick check up to make sure the shit was out of his system as well.

 

* * *

 

A man wearing a striped blazer casually walked down the halls. His white gloved hands carefully pulled at a chain on his belt, revealing a key card attached at the other end. Swiping the card swiftly and briefly waiting for the small beep to acknowledge the use of the master card, he opened the door to his floor.

Passing by a window, he frowned at his reflection. A lock of hair was sticking up at an odd angle. Gently patting it down, the man with coiffed blond hair and blue eyes continued walking till he reached his office. He took the time to gently wipe at his title and name plate attached to the left wall of the door. Director Deusericus. Lazard smiled feeling a small well of pride. It took him years to get recognized, but he was finally here and this was his rightful place.

Entering his office, his smile quickly melted off his face. The lights flickered on as he took a step into the office. Many folders and papers practically spilled off his desk. He couldn't even dig out his computer if he wanted to. All of his drawers and a stool by his desk were also covered in paperwork that had yet to be filed.

Walking over to his desk he tried to straighten some of his papers only to fail and nearly caused a stack to fall over. Something caught his eye and he glanced down. There, right under his desk and a little shadowed and pretty easy to miss, was a box. Now, Lazard knew he didn't put it there himself and no one in this department would be willing to put it there themselves.

The Director of SOLDIER, Lazard Deusericus blinked slowly. Taking his glasses off and wiping them down, he put them back on his face and frowned. So it wasn't a figment of his imagination after all.

He crouched and inspected the plain brown box. Simple clear tape closed the flaps of the box and on top of the tape was a small circular black sticker. Taking off his white glove, he pressed his thumb down on top of the sticker.

He held his thumb down for seven seconds before removing his thumb and put his glove back on. He watched as a silver logo materialized on the sticker. It was picture of the head of a wolf holding a ring in its mouth. The wolf was a symbol of Strife Delivery Services.

Opening one of his drawers he rummaged around for a small pocket knife. Quickly cutting through the tape and sticker, he shoved the knife back in his drawer.

He opened the box and pulled out the papers and a materia. He eyed the barrier materia, noting it had never been used before. He slipped it into his pocket, perhaps he could pass it off to one of his SOLDIERS later.

Lazard put the papers on his desk and stood back up. He went over to one of his cabinets, pulling out an overstuffed binder and threw it on top of his desk. Lazard sucked in a breath as the stacks on his desk wavered before settling. He let out his breath in relief when none of the papers fell over.

With a sigh, he sat down on his chair and picked up the papers he received from the box. Shifting through the papers and quickly skimming through the contents, he put them into the binder.

The papers had small hand drawn maps that plotted safe routes through various terrains and a list of several monsters (if any) that may be encountered on that terrain.

Small notes were also scribbled onto the papers of anything useful or potentially dangerous. Such as water holes or mako springs, even a few edible or poisonous plants and naturally grown greens for chocobos.

Strife Delivery Services never failed to send these monthly. The only thing it did fail was delivering on set times. The packages would always appear when he least expected it and sometimes in the strangest ways.

Once he received them on the back of many Wutai take out receipts in a bag with some fresh Wutanian food meant for him to consume. At the very least he could say that it was always exciting to receive his monthly packages.

His packages never contained an order form or actual receipt as these were normally kept secret. They were always smuggled in or dropped in a location he'd be at the time. It was easy to spot the black sticker on all the packages and even easier to scoop them up without anyone ever noticing.

Should anyone else open the package without activating the wolf seal, the package would burst to flames. Strife Delivery Services only put these stickers on packages meant for Lazard. As director, these packages and papers always helped him out when deciding missions for SOLDIER. Although the small details would normally not really matter, being able to give out more specific mission details always decreased the casualties.

The main problem was that the information contained on some of the pages could be fatal in the hands of others. Like AVALANCHE for example. Lazard could barely contain a shudder at the thought. If they knew all the routes SOLDIER would take…

Of course Lazard would also use Strife Delivery Services for normal things as well. Making it even easier to smuggle in things for the Director. Though most of the normal things would simply get dropped off to the front desk.

There were also times when Lazard would ask for certain information that was no one's business but his own. Now that information, some of it could probably start wars and rebellions. Perhaps even drive some people insane. When those certain papers would be delivered it wouldn't be included in the monthly packages. No, they were delivered straight to him under the guise of reports.

A sharp knock at his door interrupted his thoughts. Grabbing the binder and stuffing it into one of his drawers he cleared his throat.

“Come in.”

A meek looking woman bowed her head slightly, “S-sir, we just gathered all of the reports for this month.” She then motioned behind her. Three men with arms full of papers grunted and quickly dropped papers down in the room. They left to bring back even more documents.

Lazard almost wanted to sigh as more papers were shoveled into his office. Why couldn't everything be digital already. Worse he would actually have to carefully sort out all those papers. The box hidden under his desk helped hint that important information would be given to him today.

He glared at the woman as she accidentally tipped over some papers from the top of her stack. She scrambled to pick them up, making them even more untidy. Clumsy fool. He needed to get himself a new secretary and have this one given to someone else in the department.

Making a mental note to get his secretary switched, Lazard stared at the tall broad shouldered SOLDIER that strolled into his office ever so casually.

“Hewley.”

“Director.” Angeal Hewley gave a small smile as Lazard signaled for him to sit. Pulling his large sword off his back, Angeal let it lean on the wall next to his chair. The two ignored the people walking in dropping paperwork down on the floor.

“What can I do for you today, Hewley? I'm fairly certain that you are on break.” Lazard rose an eyebrow as the other man fidgeted in his seat. How unusual to see this normally honorable and confident man look so uncomfortable.

“Director, I was hoping that I could get a mission in the Mideel area?” Lacing his fingers together, he rested his chin over them and leaned over his desk. Lazard stared straight into the other man's dark blue eyes. He watched as they brightened to a bright blue glow. Despite the strong air conditioning, Angeal had a bit of sweat forming at his brow.

“You wish to visit Banora.” It wasn't a question. Angeal sighed and nodded.

“May I at least inquire as to why one of my 1st class SOLDIERS would request a mission rather than a simple vacation?” Lazard narrowed his eyes and unfolded his hands. He glanced behind Angeal and waved his secretary away. All the reports had been successfully moved to his office. She bowed awkwardly and left.

“I received a call from my mother today. She told me a lot of men went through the town lately and that she was afraid they were very suspicious.” Angeal bit his bottom lip subtlety and ran his tongue over it. “Taking a vacation would not give me any men or materia in case this is something serious.”

Lazard nodded as he took out his binder from his drawer. Leafing through he pulled out information regarding Mideel and the surrounding towns. He then pulled out his PHS and flicked through anything pertaining to the area.

“Well, that also... wasn't all.”

Lazard looked up as Angeal adjusted his shoulder protectors, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

“My mother had hinted that there is a possibility of AVALANCHE being involved.” Angeal's face scrunched up in distaste, “They had also hassled my mother and left her with a few bruises when she got a bit too close.”

Ah, so this was quite personal after all. Lazard scanned something on a few papers and fiddled with his PHS. A few seconds later, Angeal pulled out his own PHS and looked up at Lazard in gratitude.

“Take care, Commander Hewley.” Angeal had made a move to get up and start getting ready, but Lazard stopped him from leaving completely. Reaching into his pocket, Lazard tossed the barrier materia at Angeal.

“If you're right and this truly is AVALANCHE then I hope you don't let your emotions cloud your judgment. I expect everything to be taken care of swiftly. Bring people you can trust along with you. I'll let you have your pick of the lot.”

Thinking carefully. Lazard decided to also contact the TURKS.

“I'll be contacting the TURKS.” Angeal's eyebrows rose in confusion. “I'll get them to send over someone competent to take you to Mideel.”

They'd need at least 1 to accompany Angeal if this was truly AVALANCHE. Besides, he'd trust the TURKS with piloting the helicopter over any SOLDIER any day. Sending a quick message over his PHS, he expected to be contacted soon.

Signaling Angeal to take his leave, he watched the man lift his Buster Sword and reattach it to his back. Once Angeal was gone, Lazard stood from his chair and sighed. Sweeping his eyes over his office and towards the reports, he groaned. Once he properly got all important documents put away he would definitely get his secretary swapped and have that person help him with these papers. It was getting way out of hand.

Another knock at his door snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Enter.”

At the sight of his incompetent secretary, Lazard did his best to suppress another sigh.

“E-excuse me sir!” The woman shuffled in and dropped in another stack of papers. “I seemed to have m-missed this stack, I apologize sir!”

She quickly shuffled back out the door and Lazard stared at the stack she had just brought in. Sometimes this useless woman was actually quite useful. That wasn't a normal stack of papers sitting there. Lazard smirked, he wouldn't have to look over the papers that carefully after all. Reigning in all of his anger, Lazard decided to just keep her. At the very least she wouldn't ever notice anything out of the ordinary.

Perhaps this day wouldn't be quite such a lost cause as he had originally started to believe.

Feeling his PHS vibrate, Lazard was quite surprised. Trust the TURKS to be quite swift with their reply. However he found this to be incorrect after hearing the panicked words spew from some poor soul.

“Director! Please help!”

“Wha-”

“I-Its Commander Rhapsodos, sir!”

“What has he-”

“The Commander is setting people in the lab on fire, sir!! Please help!”

“… I'll be right there.”

Lazard hung up and walked around his desk. Reaching the door, he smacked his head into it and pounded his fist. For the love of-!!! It was only 6:41 A.M. and all this shit was going on. Sometimes, Lazard swears that this job was just not worth it.

Schooling his face, Lazard Deusericus opened the door and walked out. He was the Director of SOLDIER damn it! If he wasn't, then who would help all of these damn idiots?

 


End file.
